


Control

by AngriestPotato



Series: arbitrary smut challenge [8]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Han Jumin Bad Ending (Mystic Messenger), Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27486172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngriestPotato/pseuds/AngriestPotato
Summary: Jumin likes to think he's in control and you don't mind letting him make believe about the power dynamics of this relationship.
Relationships: Han Jumin/Main Character, Han Jumin/Reader
Series: arbitrary smut challenge [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257077
Kudos: 62





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> I came across this idea of MC being the one actually in control in Bad Ending 2 in a tumblr post, which I won't link because OP was very clearly against it. And this is not any kind of commentary on that, I just really liked the idea and wanted to try it out.

There’s something to be said about the thrill of the measured steps you have to take in these shoes.

The chain joining the heels only gives so much slack, though it’s thin enough for you to snap with the barest amount of determined kicking, you’re pretty sure. It’s performative, this control over you; the red ribbon Jumin favors when it comes to restraining you. So, you play your part.

You smile and make your way to him across the polished floors of the penthouse. You reach for his outstretched hand and grimace at the pull of your joined ankles just to see the worry flash over his expression.

“Kitten…”

Jumin’s voice is low; his palm, warm and careful as he settles his grip over your thigh. And here are the true chains of your relationship: your fingertips running over his shoulders, following the curve of his neck. Holding this powerful man in your greedy hands, watching as he kneels to undo the straps of the beautiful red stilettos, his first gift to you.

You think the black boots you’d seen online would fit you better, as soon as you can breach the subject, later tonight with your back leaning over his chest in the giant bed his position affords. You’ll point out the delicate little bells, for his benefit, to always know where you are. You’ll look at them longingly and sigh a little and have them delivered by the weekend at the very latest, probably with some lingerie to match.

But for now, you step off your shoes, naked under this dress. You wonder if Jumin can feel your skin through the fabric where he buries his face against your stomach, dragging his chin over the yielding flesh of you.

“My love,” he mouths over the space between your breasts and you know the pressure of his teeth like you know the rest of him, _intimately_. Too well to represent any kind of danger.

It’s an impulse he weathers like it causes him pain, to bite and to keep you in him, a part of his own body. The familiar ache of desire you bring out in him, acidic pleasure that rises in his soul until he’s truly your match.

“Yours,” you whisper to the soft rustle of his breath, quickening at the feel of your bare cunt, wet for him, “ _only_ _yours_.”

Jumin’s long fingers press into you, tentatively until you roll your hips forward and take him in for real. A slow drag that devolves to desperate grinding. The expensive slide of linen where he hooks your leg over his hip.

“Say my name.”

It’s not an order, no matter how forcefully it comes out of him. You’re so attuned to him by now that you can guess the almost imperceptible shaking of the hand that spreads over your waist, can hear the way this plea catches in his throat. But most of all, you can feel him bending to you as clearly as your orgasm settles at the base of your spine.

“Jumin.”

You press the mumble of his name to his lips, keep your eyes on him as he dips further to kiss you. And you know, incontrovertibly, that the tear sliding down his cheek is nothing but pure, absolute relief.


End file.
